Expectations
by mystiri1
Summary: One-shot. After coming to Midgar, Cloud's been feeling disillusioned... Sephiroth, Cloud's POV. Written for the One Character challenge.


_**Author's Note:** One Character prompt # 10 - Illusion_

**Warnings: **None.**  
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Cloud had had a lot of ideas about how things would be when he left Nibelheim to become a SOLDIER. Grand, glorious ideas, optimistic pictures of a bright future in which he'd prove himself to be more than just 'that Strife brat'. Then he'd reached Midgar, and his illusions had been shattered.

Midgar had technology far beyond what humble little Nibelheim did, this was true. But most of that was limited to above the Plate; the city below the Plate was dark, dingy, and often little better than slums. In fact, even above the plate there was a large amount of smog, and the streets were far from clean. Midgar might be the 'jewel' of Gaia's technological progress ShinRa so proudly claimed, but it was scarcely a shining one.

And ShinRa itself was more complicated than he could ever imagine. Back home, he'd only known it as the power company that was responsible for the reactor upon Mt Nibel. Although there were people working up there and sometimes teams of scientists or technicians came through, they had little to do with the townsfolk. Unless there was some problem with their electricity, the townsfolk gave little thought to them.

Now Cloud was here, he found himself wondering what he'd never wondered before: why did a power company need its own army? But ShinRa wasn't just a power company; there were scientists researching things he'd never heard of, SOLDIERs, Turks, the regulars, and thousands of people working in offices on various projects both public and very private indeed. He'd thought he'd left behind the gossip and backbiting of small-town life, but ShinRa was like a small town in its own right: there could be weeks when he didn't step off company property, or talk to anybody outside the company; and some of what he heard made the people back home look downright friendly.

Nor was getting into SOLDIER the straightforward process he'd thought it would be. There were forms to fill out, interviews to sit through, training, exams, medical tests . . . and he was by far the smallest in his unit. Keeping up with everybody else was a struggle, and he knew that many of them expected him to give up and go home.

That simply wasn't an option for him. He had to make it into SOLDIER. It was just some days that seemed more impossible than others.

But the biggest surprise came when he finally 'met' his hero. Sephiroth. The Silver General.

Of course, being only a recruit, Cloud didn't actually meet him at all. But he saw things while he was on duty, heard things, and learned more about how an army – even a privately owned one – really worked. He'd imagined some heroic figure, noble and brave, larger than life.

The General was certainly quite tall.

But he was built along lean lines, and had silver hair down his back that the girls back home would envy. For that fact, he was prettier than about half the girls back home, too, something Cloud was mildly embarrassed to notice. This was Sephiroth, widely acknowledged as the best even among the elite SOLDIERs, the man who had led the conquest of Wutai. He hadn't expected a grim, almost sad man who spent a large part of his time filling out paperwork. Although he would agree that being on the end of that uncanny stare was enough to unnerve anybody.

It was the biggest revelation of all. He'd thought that being someone people proclaimed a hero would surely make you happy, but he wasn't so sure of that anymore. And while he still desperately wanted to make it into SOLDIER, Cloud had realised that that was only the start of things, and there was so much more beyond that he'd simply never thought about.

He was determined to make it, though, and so he practiced every chance he got. It was on one such occasion, returning to the practice rooms after spending most of the day on watch at the front gate, that he discovered something that persuaded him he wasn't entirely wrong in the things he'd believed prior to arriving Midgar.

One of the practice rooms was occupied.

Cloud's first impulse was to close the door again, and find another one. He preferred that nobody else bear witness to his clumsy attempts to improve his skills. Then he realised that the gleam of silver wasn't just the flash of swords, but the long fall of hair that could belong to only one person. It was Sephiroth, sparring with another SOLDIER he recognised as a First Class.

They both moved like lightning, almost faster than he could follow. Some blows he missed entirely, only the sound of metal clashing against metal indicating a blow had been landed at all. They were using real blades, not practice swords, and it seemed like any moment, either one of them would surely be injured or even killed. There was something beautiful about it, almost mesmerising. He found himself holding his breath lest he distract them, and interrupt the flow of the potentially deadly dance.

Only the longer Cloud watched, the more he realised it was an uneven match. The General moved with an easy grace, evading some strikes entirely and meeting others with his slender blade as if they held no force behind them. The other SOLDIER was gleaming with sweat, his breathing harsh, while Sephiroth looked as unruffled as if he'd merely been strolling the halls. The only indication that he regarded it as any more was the intent look in his eyes, and the faint smile that played about his lips.

The match ended when a blow drove the other SOLDIER back in several stumbling steps, sword flying from his hands to land on the mat several feet away. And the only indication that it had required any effort on the General's part was that he was breathing slightly faster.

Cloud didn't linger; he stepped back, letting the door swing closed once more, and headed down the hall to find an empty room, more determined than ever to improve his own skills. And although he didn't realise it, he was smiling too.

It was good to know not all his dreams were founded on illusions.


End file.
